Our Civic Duties

We all talk about the Mumbai spirit…..the spirit of survival, the spirit of existence in a frenzied world, the spirit to stand by each other in the hour of need. It is commendable to stand up and fight the world when things suddenly turn upside down.

But there is a side of us which none of us acknowledge, forget do anything about. Every time I hear the wail of an ambulance, my heart skips a beat. And every time I see the vehicle, my anger overflows the acceptable limit. For in our mad world, even the moan of the sick does not merit importance. In our rush to reach our destinations, we will not stop and give way to the sick even if that means the end of a life for those precious few seconds of intolerance and indifference.

People, who block, overtake or just don’t give way to the wail of sick, are they any better than animals who can’t respond to the environment around. And I may be completely mistaken here, animals also reciprocate, react to surroundings—such humans are worse than anything around.

Our civic body needs to rise and respond to the situation—if most of us are thick skinned and without emotions, we need rules to make us aware of our civic duties….and it b****** well is our responsibility to stop and give way to the ambulance that is carrying the sick and the dying to the hospital.

Citizens, have conscience and lets all be human in the true sense of the word.

Sehwag or Sachin Tendulkar???

Today morning while driving down to office, the husband (as usual) was engrossed with the stories of the world, completely ignoring the poor 'me', trying to fight the restlessness and boredom in the heavy traffic of Mumbai. If only there were more fancy dressed people on the streets, it would be such better usage of my time (but I guess all the better dressed people leave really late for work after the late night outs...the owls of the world are actually so much more better dressed than the so called early risers...(is there a metaphor for them????) Anyways, coming back to the topic, that I really wanted to write about today. At a casual glance of the newspaper, the image of Sehwag stared at me and since I had nothing better to do, I started playing a game on my own. I asked myself, 'If i was given a chance to be either Tendulkar of Sehwag in life, who would I want to be?' (now, don't question my audacity...it was fanciful thinking to while away time) And the answer that I got was-- I really wanted to be a Sehwag as opposed to the God of Indian cricket, Tendulkar. I guess the tenacity, the persistence, the track record, the performance, the overpowering skill set, everything combined together could not match the flamboyance, the unexpectedness, the sheer charm of the personality in my fancy. Being a boring person myself, I am drawn to unpredictability, volatility and flamboyance and would trade places any day to be a personality that matches those traits. Superficial??? Well, it is better to be honest than fool myself :)

After a hiatus

Visiting blogpost after a hiatus. The interim was an everyday affair. Visited Kolkata for a few days. The sights and sound of the city lifted the spirits. Siliguri was just an hours flight away-- but the busy schedule didn't permit the luxury :(. Every time I am with the husband's family, I marvel at the cultural difference that exists between us. From a nuclear, forward looking parental setting to a culture steeped background at the in-laws, it has been quite a journey for yours truly. The novelty hasn't worn off even after 3+ years of marriage and I am as easily perplexed now as I was as a new bride. The custom of ladies staying at home, managing the hearth, gossiping over hot 'chai' about sarees and jewelleries, and each other's eccentricities, the undercurrents and oneupmanship, is something that I watch with glee. For an outsider, it is good fodder for some humour, but for my life I couldn't be limited to that daily existence. There is also the bright sunny side of things. Added to the very ancient Bhowanipore residence, is the pride that the Chaudhury's feel in retracing the family tree, of boasting about the endearing childhood tales, of the aunt who sings lovely rabindra sangeet, or the brother who is a renowned painter, the sister-in-law who cooks the perfect 'bhapa ilish' or the family home which celebrates the 150 year old Durga puja. With the old world charm that exists at the family home in Kolkata, there are facets that the jeans-clad, bob haired your truly would find difficult to identify with. While there are some traditions that I abhor, some that I am uncomfortable with, there is no denying that there are facets which are fun, exciting and a whole new world to me. The only regret during this trip-- I missed visiting my parent's place in Siliguri, my childhood den, the filial love and warmth, the comforts that only Siliguri can provide. Already planned the next trip in April...Siliguri, here I come :)

Random Thoughts

K and I went out for an evening walk yesterday. While getting back home, we met an uncle who stays in the same building. He embarrassed me by asking which college and what stream I was pursuing. Now I have a frail physique and on top of it, I was in shorts and Tees. For a ‘traditional generation yesterday’, it is understandable that he could never comprehend the lady of the house in such attire. However it got me thinking that one day I would jump, skip and hop from the college-girl look to the mid-age appearance, completely missing the full bloom of youth.

On being informed that I had crossed college life years back and was now a part of the rat race engaged in earning their own living, uncle was curious to know where I worked and what I did for living. Now how do I explain to a man of yesteryears that I was an online marketer and worked with Cleartrip.com, driving all their digital initiatives.

What would new media, digital initiatives, and an e-commerce company mean to an average Indian today? Wished I was skilled in something more concrete and meaningful, like a neurosurgeon or criminal lawyer, something more beneficial to the society.

The Legend Called Roger Federer

When Roger Federer was at the peak of his career, I was not very drawn to him. I found him handsome, well-dressed, but with very little emotion, like a demolition machine. It seemed his existence depended on how many matches won and nothing else mattered to him even remotely. But now that he has strong competition and is not in his winning ways, my heart goes out to him completely. I rooted for him passionately to win the Australian open and be the biggest Grand Slam winner of all times. Once the underdog, Nadal, with his pirate like looks, and emotions writ all over his young face was my absolute favorite. But this time around, I felt angry and sad when he lifted the winner's trophy It is all about emotions for me. People in a high pedestal can be worshiped, but seldom can I connect emotionally with them. I think human frailties are essential for a person to be likeable and those precious tear drops from Rogerer was all that was needed to convert me into a die-hard Rogerer fan. Hope he goes on to win not only 14, but 15, 16, 17...and more :)

Oh! Calcutta

We went out for dinner to Oh Calcutta. The husband, following his low fat, low salt diet didn't have much of a choice. He had to satisfy himself with yummy fishes and green salad. The brother in law and me feasted on 'luchi' and 'kosha mangsho'...all those who love bong food, would immediately sense the pleasure that we had. The only sore point-- the husband didnot realize that they had already charged us Rs. 400 as service charges. Since he was in a generous mood, he tipped the boys an additional Rs. 350. We ended up spending Rs. 750 just on service charges and another 400 on VAT and other taxes...oops! that was indeed a lot of money.... Otherwise, it was a very enjoyable evening. Oh Calcutta at Tardeo is delicious and much better than the one in Andheri...drop in if you have a taste for the flavours of Bengal

To Kuheli

Kuheli called after ages. We had a heart-to-heart talk. It’s amazing when we are talking how we manage to bridge all the lost time. It was as if we were continuing the thread of our conversation from yesterday.

I see a reflection of my life mirrored in hers. It’s surprising how we go through the same milestones and obstacles in our daily existence. We even share the same wedding day. To both of us, who have managed to complete three years of glorious married lives.

Here’s to you, Kuheli and myself and our respective spouses. Wish you a very happy wedding anniversary.

Trivia

The husband and I had an argument over the new President of the United States today morning (as if there wasn’t anything more important closer home). The husband felt that there was too much noise around the swearing in this time around. According to him, while it is really commendable for an Afro-American to occupy the highest post of office in the US of A, the man should be measured only by the performance that he brings to the table.

All the noise around the person, according to him is unjustified, unless he is given enough time to prove his mettle. He feels that empty words and being glib is just not enough, unless he can fructify all that he has promised. If for some reason, his action doesn’t measure up to his words, all the noise that surrounds him, and the frenzy that he is associated with today, will become so much more painful.

However, I am all swept by the charisma of the person, the wiry frame, the enigmatic smile and the vibrancy and exuberance that he exudes. I am completely bought by his glib, his recounting of his personal life, his family persona , his everyday normal guy attitude and images of him swaying to music (have we seen any other President clapping and swaying to music before??)

I guess this is the basic difference between the man and the wife. While the husband is all practical and will measure a person only by his actions, the emotional, gullible fool in me will be easily swept by anything charismatic and pleasant to the eye.

In a completely different note, I was wondering, if being glib and a good public speaker was the only criteria to become a successful mass leader. Who would then qualify for the post in India?

My choice was Farhan Akhtar, to which the husband totally freaked out. He felt that even if we did agree with my misplaced logic and superficial qualifiers, Vinod Dua would be a much better choice. (Sometimes, I wonder how two people could be so different and still be man and wife)

We also disagreed about the need to be wiry to be a charismatic person. According to me, you need to have a lean and athletic body to exude energy and confidence (oh, how perverse I can be….), while to him, body weight is irrelevant in the scheme of things. As a justification, he cited the example of Winston Churchill, whom he feels was one of the most charismatic leaders in modern history.

Guess, ours is a match of two different personalities trying to lead a life together…the husband says we are like the chalk and cheese…I am happy to assume that I am the cheese here J.

Legacy...

First love letter—Wrote my first love letter to Roberto Baggio, when I was all of 8 years. The letter was written in hindi, as a part of my third language assignment in the fourth standard.

Cricket aspirations: Was to become Mrs. Mohd. Azharuddin—found him very handsome (yaks!!!!!) at that age. Fall back option was Ajay Jadeja in case things did not go as planned with Azhar.

Movie Connections: As in all girls school, I had my fair share of followers. I distinctly remember some school kids comparing me to the hero of Maine Pyar Kya (hero, ay?? )

Sainthood dreams: Every time I was rebuked, I wrote a letter to Mother Teresa wanting to be a nun. I must have written more than 15000 letters to her. (yeah, you got it right-- I wasn’t exactly the model child and had enough reasons to be scolded)

Altruistic tendencies: Hated regular food. The brother and I got a good spanking from the parents when in the absence of elders, we invited a ragged beggar, made him sit at our dining table and fed him our food at the age of 10-11. Thankfully, the beggar was no crook or else God save us.

First real ambition: Was to become a maid, a house help, so that I would be allowed to wash utensils at home and avoid the grill of student life.

First Real Crush: Oh..so many. Anyone who had a good voice and was a good orator, I was immediately floored. So many heart breaks I must have suffered.

The list continues…. more on this later. Stay connected.

My Bong Roots

Mr. X and Y were busy discussing a lady and her eccentricities, without heeding that there were others in the vicinity. Slightly perturbed by the nonsense banter, I tried my best to engage myself in whatever I was doing. And even with the most honorable intentions of not overhearing the conversation, my ears picked up a few lines which antagonized me endlessly.

Here is how the conversation goes:

Mr. X: Y, did you know I had just called up Mrs. C

Mr. Y: Is it? So, what happened?

Mr. X: Oh, don’t ask. As soon as I greeted her, she replied ‘Don’t call me Mrs. C. I am Ms. C’

Mr. Y: Ha!Ha! You need to be careful with these Bong women. They are very dangerous.

Now, if you were me and you belonged to the same community, how would you have reacted? It is not a question of whether I am Bengali, Gujrati or Marathi or from some god forsaken island community in the middle of nowhere. It is about, who gives right to other individuals to make fun of anyone else.

Read further and you will notice how far these ‘so called sophisticated’ men can go.

Yours truly: I am shocked and take grave offense. Y, how dare you speak like that when I am around?

Mr. Y: Hey, but you are not a bong; you don’t look and behave like a Bengali at all. You, surely, are from some other part of the country.

My Bengali roots boiled at that statement. Why do people typecast a community a certain kind? Even with all the progress that we have made and the potpourri of cultures that we exist in, it is shocking to hear comments like that. More frustrating are the assumptions that I would be overjoyed to be bracketed in a group who did not belong to Bengal.

I was at a loss to explain the psyche of such people. Who are ‘they’ in the reality of today—are they representative of the mass or are they in the minority? Are they some insecured bunch of commoners who could only mouth the stereotypical reactions or are they radicals who truly believed likewise?

While I truly consider myself a conscientious human being, an Indian and a Bengali in the order mentioned, I do hold some pride in my bong roots. I am nowhere close to being a flag-bearer of the community and most of my closest friends are non-Bengalis. I am open to the world and would embrace its every nook and corner with the same enthusiasm.

But at some corner, I am as intensely proud of my roots as is anyone else. We pride in our destiny and our roots, for they define our culture and being. And I hate such mindless quotes, who out of whatever reason, even dare to bracket us in the stereotypical nonsense.

On a serious note

A couple of days back I heard something interesting and very thought provoking. Here is a version of how I recall it.

Old methods/behavior+ old techniques= predictable results

Old methods/behavior+ new techniques= unpredictable

An example,

War is an old behavior, an old method to settle scores or win territories (whatever that may be). In the old ways, when people fought with bows and arrows or local warfare, it had predictable results (though war has never been totally predictable, yet you could still gauge the winner or the extent of carnage from the strength of stake holders involved)

War, the old behavior still continues, but with alarmingly new techniques. Is there anything predictable in the high tech, atomic warfare of today?

Serious thoughts but expand it to any facet of life, and it might hold true.

Is it time for us to change those old habits which have become obsolete in today's world and might be detrimental to our existence?

K K Menon- The Superstar

Why was K K Menon left out in Wednesday? I really loved the movie and thought the portrayal of the characters were very good, right from the assertive Anupam Kher, to the conscientious Naseeruddin Shah, to the hunk ATS officer Jimmy Shergill, not to forget the likeable Aamir Bashir. Every actor fitted the role seamlessly and it was one of the finest cinema that I have watched in recent times. However, I did miss K K Menon in the movie. Right from Black Friday to Mumbai Meri Jaan, I think he is an actor who brings out the poignancy, the reality of such situation in a manner that is unmatched and very forceful.

Wishing that in future we see more of K K Menon in his very best in such meaningful cinema.

Restless me

I am a very restless individual..have a very short attention span and am always looking for change; three years after setting up our new home, I have been bugging the poor husband regularly for a complete make-over. Yes, I am that silly and unstable. So, now you know why the look of this blog changes regularly...that is my defense for the every changing layout. The only constants in my life are my family and friends; thankfully, the lord has at least given me some good sense in that department. Rest, everything in life is subjected to change, and at that, quite frequently and without any notice :).

The Palace of Illusions

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s ‘The Palace of Illusions’ is an interesting adaptation of the Mahabharata, viewed through the eyes of Draupadi. It is Mahabharata, as narrated by the epic Queen, through her jealousies, insecurities, stateliness and intense passion outside marriage.

The story, though set in an ancient era, draws definite parallel to modern day society, where the woman in the backdrop, through her silent but strong attributes, define the course of several lives. The dark, unwhetted love that Draupadi feels for Karna, silently drives the kings to the intense battle, that is known as Mahabharata. Though it will be too simplistic and totally out of context to attribute the entire Mahabharata to one unrequited love, the first person narration from the regal lady, brings forward the forceful character that changed the course of history.

The book is a must read to understand the intricacies of the era, to fall head over heels in love with the man called Karna, to understand the fragility in the strength of characters like Dhristyadyumna, Drona and several others, and most importantly to relate to a lady who never forgave Arjuna, for sharing her body and spirit with four others, and led the entire life pining for a man who she believed would have behaved otherwise.

Very modern in its conflicts between Kunti and Draupadi, it’s passion for revenge, its depiction of love and ambition, the characters as seen through the eyes of Draupadi, give a new facet to the often narrated story of Mahabharata.

Mere desh mein paisa sirf paisa nahi hain

Every now and then, I find myself humming the jingle that has taken over the ad space in our living rooms. While money has taken different proportions of importance in our varied lives, it is no rocket science that most of us spend the larger part of our lives carving out a ‘livelihood’ for ourselves. Truly in this age of materialistic splendor, there is no denying that ‘money’ has taken an all pervasive importance in our lives.

While everything around ‘money’ has so far been depicted to show the ease of material comforts that could be easily accessed by the ‘moneyed’ services of different products, it was a welcome change to see the softer, more humane side of life being brought out in the advertisement.

The various emotional ties that were brought out in the ad, the smaller pleasures of the simple people that were highlighted, the cultures and traditions that were woven around the coin, brought forward the ethos that as a country India represents.

It was truly one of the better ads of today, with the right dollop of emotions, practicality, sound and music. It gave a personality to the product which is truly endearing.

Truly, mere desh mein paisa sirf paisa nahi hain……

The 'Rock-stars' in my life

This is the most personal blog that I have ever written. It is an ode to the by-gone days and a promise for the future. It is a toast to all the important people in my life. As someone rightly said, we meet millions of people in the journey called life, out of which there are only thousands whom we call acquaintance, a hundred whom we call friends and family and a handful who defines our lives and moulds its joys and sorrows, its sighs and exultation, its mornings and nights….it is to those handful that I dedicate this piece. At the dawn of a new year, a new promise for a brighter and safer future, a silent prayer for a better world, it is to those kindred souls that I thank for the great experience called ‘life.’


Parents: no one can and no one will ever fill your shoes. You have been a pillar of strength all along the way; whenever I have faltered (and there has been incidents many), you have been there to cushion my falls and hold my hand to rise and face life with a chin held high and a strength to carve a better tomorrow. You have been the picture of selfless love and unfailing attention, and if not for you the world would not be the same for me ever. Today, tomorrow and life-long, my world would always begin and end with you, irrespective of what I fill it with in-between.


Brother: What would my life be without the childhood squabbles, the endless fun, the fights, the small moments of joys and sorrows that we carefully tucked under our soft pillows, every night when we went to bed after a fun filled day. During my growing up years, whenever I needed the protective shoulder after a hard day or a difficult situation, you have always been there by my side. You have been my partner in crime and shielded and stood by me in all the highs and lows of life.


Thamma, Dadu and Rina mashi: A child needs to dream, needs a place to hide when she commits all the childish follies, the pranks in life. Every time the brother and me rolled in the sand when we did not get a toffee, or hid behind a bush not wanting to take the afternoon siesta, or wanted that one doll that could dance and sing, we always ran to you for your benevolent mercy. The bed time stories, the companionship when parents went to work, the love and affection that you endlessly showered, defined the best moments of our life.


Shubashree and Poulomee: The starry-eyed, giggling trio that we formed during our growing up years had an element of fun, a challenge and kinship that is so refreshing when I look back at it today. We made dreams together, fought and debated hard about our favorite movie stars and cricket players, participated in endless chatters and no-ends-meet discussions, and most important of all, you two filled up the space of two dotting friends who defined the highs of my school life, be it the innocence pranks or the brilliant day dreams.


The trio of Kolkata- Priya, Sabeena and Saswati: I was out of home, young and lonely in an unknown land, trying to define my destiny. The protected child that I was, I felt lost in the urban wilderness. You all, at different points in my life, gave me the companionship that helped me stay rooted to the ground and plan for tomorrow. Sabeena and Priya, thank you for bearing with my tantrums and giving way to my whims in those wild days of just gained freedom. Saswati, I will always owe you the generosity that you showed in braving the nerd (while I hid in my room) and taking me out of the relationship that I wanted to get out of, after two days of sunshine. Oh all those heartbreaks and crushes, the mooning and day dreams would not have been complete without you three.


The Delhi gang: I have already dedicated a piece to you before. What more can I say. Those were the wildest and craziest days of my life. I gained some of my best friends here. There are memories and people during this phase whom I have left behind for good—but the sorrows, the anguish, the failures were outweighed by the fun, the future and friendship that I got from you guys.


The husband: You are one of the most integral part of my life today. Between the two end points of my life, you are one of the most important today. Though we fight like cats and dogs, are two diverse personalities in every respect, you give me a grounding, a stability that allows me to be careless with life, to give wings to my whims, to throw caution to the wind and live for the moment. You give me the cushion which allows me to falter and fall, to live a carefree today to the hilt.


The in-laws (MIL, FIL and SIL): You are the most important people in the lives of the most important people of my life, my husband, my brother and my parents. Though we have had limited days together, you are an important part of my future. The stability that you bring in the lives of my dear ones, the joys that you give them are the joys that I bask in too. Thank you for the dearness and the love.

And thank you to all the friends, the colleagues, the bosses and the neighbors who have touched me intimately at different times, gave me that single smile, the one-time hope, the strong hand that makes me what I am today.

When kids sing, ‘Mein talli, mein talli, mein talli ho gayi”

It was a day after Christmas. We had gone out with a group of friends to spend the weekend in a beach resort. It was a breezy winter evening; a slight snip in the air was a comfortable change from the sultry evenings of Mumbai.

The barbecue was well -laid out. Chunky pieces of chicken and the softness of the paneer was tantalizing our eager taste buds. While the husband and majority in the group emerged themselves to the drink and food, the ‘teetotalar ‘ in me had a fun time enjoying the antics of people around.

As the evening progressed, and alcohol flowed freely, the crowd changed from the sober to the playful. The otherwise serious group engaged in completely random chatter. Big boys (men) sang nursery rhymes while children danced to the beats of racy numbers. Yeah, I agree with you my friends, the world does look topsy-turvy.

I was startled to discover how parents nonchalantly observed their little ones as they behaved far beyond their age. Little girls acted cocky and initiated questions and answered queries in a language that was completely alien to our generation when we were their age. In my limited world now, I am rarely in such close proximity to toddlers for such length, and the evening made me realize that times have drastically changed. The generation gap is startling and quite beyond my comprehension.

An example of the behavior that had me gaping in wonder was a small kid, singing and dancing with the ‘bang on’ expression to the tunes of “mein talli ho gayi”…(to all who don’t understand the language, it translates into a racy number depiciting how drunk you are). The girl, all of 9, not only mouthed these songs, but made herself a perfect concoction of vodka and sprite, which knocked the senses out of me.

The poor husband, drunk by now, quickly sobered down by the brazen act of the kid. While we quietly brought it to the notice of the parents, their reaction to the incident made us look like stone-age relics. They could actually find humor in the incident and let go the child with the lightest tap on the shoulder.

Friends, times are different and I am long way off the road. I cherish the innocence of the past and the knowledge and information of today and earnestly hope that we can strike a balance that gets the best of both the worlds to the generations of tomorrow.

Mindless Advertising

A young boy, no actually a kid, comes running to his mom complaining that he has lost his favorite new toy. Mom says, ‘beta, look around, you will find it somewhere.’ Boy insists that he has indeed lost the toy.

Apparently, there are visitors in the living room. A young couple is chit-chating with the mom when the boy barges in the conversation. The visitor promises to buy the kid a new toy , to which the kiddo replies, ‘Why should you buy me the toy? My dad is going to get it for me.’

The kid is nice and adorable. The setting very homely and cosy, right where you would like to fit in any given day. Everything is believable and real like, until the visitor blurts out, ‘but beta, what if you happen to lose your dad?’

The minute you hear this, you stare at the ad in disbelief. Do you think any sane person (and the young visitor in the ad looks alright, his senses intact) would pose such a question to a child? Imagine your uncles and aunts asking you when you were a kid a similar question—what kind of an insecurity and helplessness it would have left on your impressionable mind. And more than that, what kind of a grown-up you needed to be to have posed such a question to a kid. Mr. Writer, I don’t think you have got it right this time--such stories are not only difficult to digest, but leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

And every time I hear the young man asking that question, I feel a strong sense of rejection for the product. I feel strange at the mindlessness of such rubbish that is thrown at us in the name of creativity and good production values. Not all times, advertisements will reflect reality. In fact, most of the ad stories are made to make the product king-size and exaggeration is a given in the make believe world.

However, there are words like ethics, civility and good sense. If those are thrown to the wind, even the cutest kid and the best setting will not manage to salvage the story and I seriously doubt the effectively of such mindlessness in creating a brand value for any product.

in continuation

...and i completely forgot the comment about trying to cross-dress that the husband famously said when i wore a salwar suit...

My New Hairstyle

It has been long since my last blog but life was kind of hectic. It wasn’t as if I was overburdened with work or anything; just the commute and routine activities were tying me down.

So, the highlight of the last few days-- I went in for a new look. My instruction to the hairstylist was, “Give me a short hair cut that would make me look smart.” Now, if someone were to make such an open ended statement, no wonder it could be interpreted as anything. And, my stylist had a hay day interpreting my instructions as a desire to go for the punk or something as adventurous. Half way through his work, I was aghast and screaming the roof down with horror.

Few friends who accompanied me were vacillating between consoling me and bursting out with uncontrollable laughter. I looked like a cross between a scarecrow and a half drenched chicken. Seeing the horror writ all over my face, the lady of the parlor came to rescue. The repair work done was the best that possibly could be, but by then the damage had already been done.

The end result. Now I wear my hair very very short, something like the soldiers of the land carry. Though I try to console myself, saying it the Halle Berry look or the in-trend hairstyle, I know for the good or the worse I need to see it through for the next few months.

Few comments that I received as a result of my adventure:

The husband: spare driver, lets go for a boys night out, all the guys (moi included) could take a trip to goa; Mr. Jayanat…..and he could go on and on

Office colleagues: not that bad, could be better, last hair style was much much better, Mr. Jayatri…..and this list is also endless

Friends: Not that bad; don’t worry, this is winter, your hair will grow very fast;

In all this turmoil, there have only been a few people who helped me keep my confidence. Monalisa and Tarique really said nice words and if not for them, I would have felt really low.

What the hell, what’s in a look anyways…as I said before…”I never knew her loveliness, until she smiled on me.’